


Blood

by Apherion



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: M/M, Might Add More, Porn With Plot, Stand Alone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-29
Updated: 2012-10-29
Packaged: 2017-11-17 07:58:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/549324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Apherion/pseuds/Apherion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shizuo had never gotten that close before, and it shook them both into acting not as they usually would when they see each other again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blood

People shouldn’t be allowed to get involved when there were things like this. There should be boarders, rules to this game, but the two paid no heed to any form of regulation for their game—their death match. No one really understood it—they just understood that if they heard the sound of his voice cursing his name, to run or at least get out of the way of the streetlight that was going to be hurtling towards a smaller man in a fur-lined jacket.

The cigarette was perched on his lip when he and Tom were out. His posture was horrid; he shuffled along like an old man sometimes, other times he just slouched a bit with his hands in his pockets, fingering a butane lighter. Above the tobacco scent, he’d catch it—that distinctive smell of blood and the desire to kill.

“IZAYA!” He shouted, and Tom didn’t ask questions about it anymore. This had been happening for the better part of ten years or so, and he shrugged, watching the hired hand dressed in a bartender’s outfit grab the nearest object that easily required a crane to place it to hurl at the mischievous man always taunting Shizuo by being in Ikebukuro.

“Shizu-chan, come and catch me,” he teased him further, dodging the thrown object, pissing off the bodyguard even more. People moved out of the way, too used to this—as it was almost a daily occurrence—to get riled up by it. They went about their day, Shizuo and Izaya not making a bit of a difference in their routine.

The infuriating, dark haired man danced around, running in alleyways and over rooftops, singing at the top of his voice ‘Catch me if you can’. Shizuo continued his assault, not at all deterred by the informant’s antics. One of these days he’s going to catch him, and it feels like today is that day. Shizuo’s eyes, usually meant to see only red and not calculate the situation see that opportunity this time. As Izaya spun about, Shizuo called out to him rather than chuck a thick piece of metal at him.

“Izaya-kun,” he purred loud enough for him to hear. The result ended with Izaya tangling his legs with each other, forcing him to the ground with a loud ‘Fuck’ issuing from his lips. The blonde was on him in seconds, hands gripping his neck and forcing him into the ground, straddling him.

“I’m going to kill you, flea,” he hissed through gritted teeth, watching how Izaya winced as he broke some of the asphalt of the empty road. His dark eyes glared up at him, but it mattered not. He was going to follow through with it; he was finally going to get to kill—

“S-Shizu…chan…” There was a faint cough along with the words that he struggled to speak. Shit. The deceitful entity that was his rival was looking up at him, and he had been wrong, the eyes weren’t glaring at him. “You’re…not going…to kill me…are you?” He knew it was just the man’s call for self-preservation, but hearing those weak words reminded him of his strength, of the woman he had put in danger by using it. Izaya looked nothing like her though. He was nowhere near anything like her.

“Shut up you goddamn louse,” he growled at him. His hands started squeezing around his throat, watching with mad hunger to see the whites of the man’s eyes. A choking sound emitted from him, and he had to blink to make sure he was indeed still holding Orihara Izaya. His eyes had become…softer, sad almost.

“Shizu-chan…gets…his wish,” he whispered with the faintest amount of breath.

“Quit looking at me,” he bit out angrily, trying to collapse his windpipe, but those eyes weren’t letting him. Those fucking eyes that were always watching him, ever since middle school, those eyes had been watching him, and he hated them and their owner from the moment they had met. Izaya had persuaded a bunch of jocks to come after Shizuo, as if he was testing him, gauging his power. Christ. Shizuo slammed him down against the hard surface, creating cracks with Izaya’s head.

“Stop fucking looking at me!”

“But I…want to see…Shizu-chan…when I die.” Fuck. What was that? What the _hell_ was he playing at? His hands didn’t slacken around his throat, only held him down on the street. His fingers twitched over his skin. He just needed to kill this damn nuisance and make Ikebukuro free from his manipulation techniques. That was all he was pulling with this right now anyway, so why was he hesitating?

“I don’t care what you want! You don’t get that!” He spat at him, but still he did not snap his neck. Shit, what am I doing? It’s easy—he’s so small, I can finish him here. I can end his life and the torment he puts me through every day. It’s a win.

“But…I’ll miss…Shizu-chan.”

“You fucking flea—you don’t get to miss me! Just die!” His fingers twitched again, but this time, they let go. They stared at each other for a long moment before Shizuo quickly got off of him. Izaya coughed—high-pitched and almost like he hadn’t gone through puberty—and got to his feet, and before either of them said anything, Izaya took off back to Shinjuku.

Goddamn it. I had him right there in my hands and I couldn’t close. He was right there, and he didn’t want to see the light fade from his eyes. “Tom’s going to have a riot with this,” he said bitterly, digging out the smokes and putting a fresh one between his lips quickly flicking open his butane lighter to start the slow burn of nicotine and tobacco through his system. Hands in his pockets, he started to walk back to where he knew he’d be able to meet by up with his ‘employer’.

\-- -- --

Izaya stayed away from Ikebukuro for quite a while, a few days in fact. During those days, it was quite. Shizuo beat up people for the debt collector and talked with Shinra and the expecting Celty. He didn’t ask how it was possible for a dullahan (it’s a well-kept secret after all) to get pregnant because he didn’t want to know what was going on in the young doctor’s brilliant—albeit, sick—mind. Despite this, Shinra mentioned the fact that she had all of her organs so naturally she was fully capable of having children, and after the fifth time of telling him he didn’t want to know, Shizuo finally walked away saying something about needing to meet with Kadota.

Admittedly, it was odd not seeing Celty in her usual getup—her Black Rider uniform—but then again, he wasn’t in his today, though it looked similar, just minus the vest and tie.

Mostly, she wore a strange kind of veil when she and Shinra went out, but those outings were few and far between for the past three months. Shizuo had stopped in on them several times during the pregnancy, helping out Shinra while he worked, with a demanding transporter on his ass to get her a heating pad or a compress or some kind of pain medication that can be transferred through skin.

“Hey, Celty,” he started to ask her on another peaceful day.

‘What?’

“I was wondering…have you heard from…that person lately?” He didn’t want to say his name, and he watched as Celty typed faster than a human could to give her response.

‘No…I haven’t heard from him recently. Can I ask why? I thought you hated him.’

Shizuo shook his head. Damn. He hadn’t anticipated her to make that statement. Scratching the back of his head, he figured telling her wouldn’t be too awful. “I almost killed him the other day.” She turned to him, body language full of concern—sure, she wasn’t the man’s biggest fan but she figured the two were just playing with each other, not actually _trying_ to murder each other.

‘WHAT?! You—you almost killed Izaya?!’

“Calm down, calm down—don’t make it into such a big deal. I didn’t kill him all right? I just…roughed him up a bit.” No, I nearly snapped his neck in my hands and then he looked at me…like I was… He shuddered.

‘I’m calm…but…what stopped you?’ She truly seemed to want to help, and Shizuo needed someone to talk to—someone that wasn’t Kadota or someone like Simon and he definitely didn’t want to talk with Shinra about it. He was the one who got them to meet.

“I…I don’t know.”

‘Yes you do.’ She contradicted him easily, trying to get him to open up and talk, but that wasn’t something that came so easily.

“…Well, maybe he was looking at me funny. I think he said something funny, too.” He felt awkward discussing this with a supernatural being, but who was he to talk about ‘supernatural’ things? Wasn’t his strange way to convert adrenaline into extreme strength supernatural, too?

‘Funny? In what way?’

“Funny…like he said he wanted to see me as he died and his eyes were sad.” Celty paused at that, thinking to herself quietly before she wrote him.

‘That’s…different.’ He stared at her statement before she retracted it and gave another. ‘Why do you think that is?’

“I don’t know!” He growled, hands ruffling his hair in frustration. “The man doesn’t make sense to me; I just want to kill him!”

‘But you had that chance and you didn’t.’ She had him there.

“I know, I know. I’m…look, I’m sorry. I’ve got to run. I’ll stop by again in a couple of days.”

‘All right, Shinra did say to give you a few days off of working off your debt ^_^’

He showed himself out, walking away from her feeling more confused and decided to go down to one of the bars to drink a bit heavily.

Meanwhile, Celty logged onto the chat site a lot of them used.

Bakyura: Hey Setton!

Taro Tanaka: Long time, no see!

Saika: How do you do?

Setton: I’m well. I’ve been doing boring things. I’m so exhausted.

Kanra: Me too. It’s been hell around here.

Setton: Oh?

Taro Tanaka: Kanra’s been bickering about people.

Saika: Taro, be nice.

Kanra: No, no! I have been.

Bakyura: At least it’s been peaceful.

Bakyura: You know that Heiwajima Shizuo hasn’t been on the rampage.

Setton: Yeah, but that’s because Orihara Izaya hasn’t been in Ikebukuro.

Saika: Well…I’m glad there hasn’t been a fight recently.

Saika: I get a little nervous when those two go after each other.

Taro Tanaka: Well put Saika. I don’t like it much either.

Bakyura: Does anyone know why?

Kanra: Maybe he’s busy?

Bakyura: Nah, Shizuo’s never too busy to kick someone’s ass.

Kanra: Don’t speak about that scary man so casually.

Taro Tanaka: Yeah Bakyura, you need to calm down.

Setton: I heard it was because Shizuo almost killed Izaya.

A private message popped up on her screen then from Kanra.

Kanra: Do you know him?

Setton: Yes…I know him.

Kanra: Did he tell you that?

Setton: Yes, he did—but what does it matter to you Kanra?

_Kanra has gone offline_.

That’s weird, she thought to herself, continuing to talk with the others until she felt herself in need of medication.

\-- -- --

Shizuo was shuffling his way back to his apartment, a run-down little thing that wasn’t too much to brag about, but it was still nice, cheap, and in a better part of town than some people lived. He didn’t mind it at all, and after such a long, confusing day and four hours of drinking, he just wanted to take a shower and pass out on his bed.

He wasn’t so inebriated to miss the fact that his door was opened or that godforsaken smell. He growled, “Izaya!” But there wasn’t an answer. He shut the door back, locking it back and moving through the kitchenette and dining room, past the living room, and found the bastard, sitting on his bed.

Dark eyes peered at him through dark hair, and he almost went ballistic. “Get out,” he hissed with all of the animosity he felt towards the man sitting there, looking at him like that. “And stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” His question slipped off of his silver-tongued, and he slammed his fist into the wall.

“Like you’re doing right now, stop it and get the fuck out!” His eyes burned viciously, feeling the drunkenness dissipate for the amount of adrenaline coursing through him. When Izaya shook his head and started to laugh, Shizuo had had it. He pounced on the informant, pinning him down to his bed.

“You reek,” he snarled, his expression angry and one hundred percent sober now.

“So do you,” Izaya remarked at him, his nose wrinkling. Shizuo smelt of sweat, smoke, tobacco, and beer.

“Well if you didn’t like it, why did you come here?” He asked harshly taking his wrists into his hands and shoving them down on the bed, as well.

“Because you talked to Celty about it.” That stopped any comeback Shizuo could have prepared.

“How the fuck did you know that?”

“It’s my job to know things. I have my ways, Shizu-chan.” They stared at each other, the expressions gradually becoming softer on Izaya’s end as Shizuo still glared relentlessly.

“I want you to get out.”

“I can’t.”

“Can’t or won’t?” He asked him, fingers tightening their grip on Izaya’s wrists. Izaya’s dark eyes gazed innocently up at him.

“Can’t… With Shizu-chan on top of me like this, I can’t move.” His teasing voice only got Shizuo far enough to notice that he was straddling the man again, but he still didn’t move.

“Die, flea,” he snapped at him, but Izaya still looked at him with those weird eyes. “What’s with that expression—stop it.” But rather than his command being obeyed, the dark haired man leaned up into him, touching his lips for the briefest of moments before one of Shizuo’s hands let go, punching the smaller of the two hard, but not bone-shattering.

Izaya laughed, his tongue going over his lip as the blood started to pool there. The scent was stronger. Rusty, metallic, salty—it invaded his nose, and the taste was in his mouth. For the most disgusting odor, the taste was pleasant, like a seasoning for food. Shizuo couldn’t blame his next action on booze, having burnt it all the moment he walked in his door.

He descended his lips on the spot Izaya had moved his tongue over, and started sucking the corner of his mouth. He could still smell it on Izaya, but it was back to its usual, if not duller, scent.

Izaya gave an unexpected noise for Shizuo putting his lips and tongue so close to other’s. What the fuck was he thinking? He was sucking blood from _Izaya_. Anyone but that man would be acceptable—hell; it really could have been another guy! Anyone but Orihara Izaya would have been better, but he couldn’t pull away from him, attracted too much to the taste and wanting to experiment if the taste extended elsewhere.

He brought his lips over Izaya’s, kissing him, biting at his tongue which immediately retracted and his mouth shut. He licked at his upper lip, nibbled at his lower lip, but to no avail. “Open your mouth,” he growled at him. Izaya did not comply immediately, and the hand with the ring on his forefinger reached between them, grabbing at his crotch. A strangled moan escaped Shizuo, shocked at the feeling being so desirable. He didn’t like it—didn’t like the idea that Izaya could do that to him so soon when he had yet to make him bend to his will.

He shifted how they were positioned, taking his knees one at a time to nudge his legs apart and to let him settle between them. It didn’t take but a moment to establish how the smaller man was taking this, and found himself in almost the same state as he rubbed their hips together through their clothes. Izaya’s were tighter, and Shizuo grinned as he heard the sound of pure want escape him. He descended his mouth to his, claiming with his tongue quickly as possible.

Shizuo tasted him, licking his mouth with fervor as he examined how it compared to his blood. But no—that was not the taste, no matter how good it still was despite that fact. Maybe it’s something to do with under his clothes, he thought as they rutted against each other. And maybe I’m being too cavalier about wanting to have _sex_ with my enemy. It was something that he gave little thought to though. He would deal with the repercussions later; no matter if he woke up to his throat slit—Christ that shouldn’t turn him on—Izaya gone and out of his bed—good, fine—or curled up against him.

He didn’t want to entertain that thought.

Shizuo’s hands grabbed at his clothes, and Izaya managed to pull away from his lips. “So hasty—please, stop here. I, nngh!” He bit his tongue to cover the moan as Shizuo pressed his hardening cock against his through their trousers.

“Too late, Izaya-kun,” he remarked, stripping him fiercely from his coat and flinging it into a corner of his room. He saw the way Izaya tugged at the sleeves of his shirt.

“You’re moving too fast!” He cried, but Shizuo ignored him, his hands forcing his shirt up and over his body, tossing it with the coat. “S-stop, Shizu-chan, please, stop!” But he didn’t hear him, and there was the reason why he kept smelling blood on him.

Forgoing getting off, he took both of his wrists ruthlessly—because Izaya tried to fight him off and bury them against his side—into his hands, examining the treachery the informant had committed to his pale skin. Angry red, raw, and distended flesh from scarring and reopening of wounds mottled his forearms. He sniffed experimentally, just to make sure, but that was it. His look was stony at the dark haired man for a brief moment before he brought his tongue to lick over the destroyed skin.

“Why?” He asked him as his tongue laved over the flesh. He could feel Izaya shrug and shudder slightly, but his hand went quickly to his shoulder, pressing him down on the bed, no longer concerned about sex—for the moment. Izaya looked away, red blooming over his cheeks.

“I don’t know.”

“You do know,” he recited Celty’s words to hopefully elicit a response, his wet muscle soothing skin that had been ravaged for quite some time.

“It’s a habit, I’ve forgotten why.”

“Bullshit. Try again.” He wasn’t going to allow the man to cop out, not when he’s been tormenting him for years and not when he decided to deliver himself on a silver platter for him.

“I…fine. I started in middle school here…and before I met you…new school with no friends and parents that could give a damn. I suppose I was bored.” Shizuo grunted, not believing it, but he couldn’t disprove it either.

“Maybe I should break that habit—maybe you won’t piss me off so much,” he muttered moving to cover his lips again. Izaya dodged the kiss, and Shizuo’s lips connected with his jaw.

“I don’t—you don’t think I’ve tried?” He shouted at him, trying to struggle out of his grasp yet again. Shizuo held him down, hands gripping his wrists hard. He wasn’t going to let the man go, not yet at least.

“Izaya,” he whispered calmly against his skin, much more calmly than he had ever been with the dark haired man in his presence. Izaya however did not look at him or answer. The blonde stared at him, a question in his eyes. “You started this,” he muttered.

“And—what if I want to be over?” He grimaced, still not looking up at him. He didn’t understand him, really. That little prick was enough to irritate him no end, and now it seemed to be even worse because he was jerking him around like this.

“You don’t get that option,” he growled at him, lips against his neck, biting his neck. It was not in retaliation, but rather to hear him whimper to contradict his words.

“Ah—you’re the worst, Shizu-chan,” he groaned, baring his neck for Shizuo to have more access. He took it, lips and teeth breaching his skin and sucking softly against it.

“Shut up,” he said harshly, hands moving over his flesh to feel the thin frame. Shizuo wanted him, wanted him for a reason he wasn’t sure of—it couldn’t have been because of that smell. It was awful! He had smelt blood before, but Izaya’s was completely different. It was more raw and bare, and he mutilated his skin long enough for that scent to pervade him.

Izaya moaned as quietly as he could, feeling the blonde’s searching hand pressing over his flesh, obviously trying to distend it—engorge it. He couldn’t help it, already half-hard when Shizuo started his ministrations on his body. “Shizu—mmf!” The bodyguard had taken it upon himself to capture the informant’s lips in an open-mouthed kiss. He didn’t give him the chance to breathe until the tight, black denim had been worked off of his hips along with the shorts he wore.

“I said shut up.” His hand wrapped around Izaya’s cock, stroking his length and eliciting soft moans from the tiny body beneath his fingers. Shizuo grinned at that, watching as Izaya blushed fiercely. Vaguely, he wondered about the man’s love life—and if these kind of trysts occurred often for him. He found him not liking the idea of Izaya with other people. What if they tried to kill him? He’s so damn small.

Their contrasting eyes met for a moment—crimson and amber, dark red and bright gold—before Shizuo found himself licking down the smaller body. “Nn—mm…!” Shizuo listened to the noises he made, adding to them with his slurping at his skin, delving lower to Izaya’s smooth skin and arousal.

His tongue flicked out over the crown of the erection, causing the informant to jerk halfway into thrusting his hips into the blonde’s mouth. Shizuo prevented that and held him down with his hands, lips gaping over the modest arousal, cheeks sinking in as he pulled in air around the tip. “Ah—nmf—Shizu…Shizu…chan,” Izaya exclaimed with hardly any sound to vocalize it. It’s not like this was something completely abhorrent to the bodyguard—girls had done this to him and it had felt good. His hand slid down to the base of the cock that was inside his mouth before his wet muscle flattened and gyrated over the head. He felt him tensing quickly though, and the hand around his prick squeezed tightly, staving off the orgasm and hearing a breathy cry of protest.

When Shizuo parted with the slightly twitching cock, precum and saliva trailed between him and Izaya’s member, slowly breaking apart as Shizuo leaned over to reach into his bedside table where good news and bad news awaited him. The lube was there, but he didn’t have condoms ready in the drawer. “Fuck,” he cursed, shocking himself by actually _wanting_ Izaya, to be buried in him and hear him saying his name.

“Wha’…what’s wrong?” A shaky voice from the man he had been ravishing for the better part of fifteen minutes at the most. Shizuo turned his attention back to him, his frown prominent.

“I don’t have condoms and frankly, I’m too worked up to be able to go out and get some.” It was true, he’d probably kill the cashier if they didn’t move fast enough, and he didn’t want to give Izaya the chance to run. The dark haired man was leaning up, cool hands wrapping around the back of his neck, and he legitimately worried about those lithe fingers. But when they delved into his hair, tugging at the tresses and pulling back over him, he relaxed only slightly.

“It’s fine,” he told him. Shizuo shook his head at him, even with the go ahead, and Izaya’s hands fall from his hair, to grasp at the front of his shirt at the hem.

“Look, flea, you might be okay with it but—”

“Shizuo.”  It only took one word from Izaya to get the bodyguard to stop mid-sentence. The man watched as Izaya’s eyes found at particularly interesting piece of wall to stare at to his right, vestiges of pink on his cheeks the beginnings of a blush. “I haven’t…with anyone,” he admitted, still avoiding eye contact, the blush darkening. That revelation made Shizuo look questioningly at him, and scarlet eyes shifted their gaze over him.

“You’ve never…?”

“I really wasn’t interested in it.” So that explained why he was so close the moment he started sucking him. The blonde’s smirk was wide at that.

“And you’re okay with it?” Izaya rolled his hips up against Shizuo’s, and he grinned further, leaning into him and making him shiver by passing his lips over his ear. “No good, I want to hear you say it,” he growled, rocking against him with his still-clothed erection. The moan brought on by that movement was delicious—almost as sweet as cake.

“Yes—yes, I’m okay with this,” he stammered, trying not to stumble over his words as Shizuo ground his hips down against him. The moan that was drawn from the smaller body sent a thrill down him, and he repeated the motion, crashing his lips onto Izaya’s. Those dark red eyes were almost completely shut as he swept his tongue over his lips, entrance granted for him to lick and devour the cavern presented to him. When he broke the kiss, it was languid, like he was taking his time with familiarizing himself—was he doing that?—with the informant’s mouth.

Izaya brought his legs to wrap around his waist tightly, searching for friction to cover his cock impatiently. The blonde smiled wickedly, dropping a hand down between them, forefinger pressed over the slit as precum leaked from the orifice. With a leisured pace, he started stroking him to tease him further.

“Oh—ahmm!” These little cries did not quicken his hand, rather they caused Shizuo to let go and grab the bottle of synthetic liquid. A protesting whine hushed as his eyes opened to see what Shizuo was doing. Despite the steady pace, the blonde had hurriedly pumped out a substantial amount of liquid, coating his middle finger especially with it. He leaned over the younger man, that digit probing without penetrating, working over the tight outermost ring of pink skin. Izaya’s attention was undivided as Shizuo let him get accustomed to the feeling before pressing into him, painstakingly slow, but it was for the virgin’s sake. As much as Shizuo wanted to think the man had been jerking him around, he could shake the fact that his insides covered him like a form-fitting glove.

Shizuo ducked his head into the raven haired man’s chest, needing to steady himself because he had imagined how he would feel buried inside of him. After a shaky breath, he heard Izaya say as he attempt to regain breath, “Shizu…chan—is this…supposed to feel so strange?” If he was a man that wanted to talk during sex, then he would’ve started a conversation, but his job at the moment was making sure he was relaxed enough not to let it hurt too much.

“It’s fine,” he said back, a little strained as his breathing was cut off by how much his slacks were constricting him now. His hand pumped into and out of him gently, not thrusting into him with reckless abandon. However, the moment Izaya seemed to be meeting him for each thrust, he allowed a second finger to penetrate him, scissoring to widen the muscles down there and soon a third followed. Shizuo could feel himself becoming less and less patient for noisiness.

“Ah—nng, Shizu,” were gasped consistently as his fingers moved inside him, and Shizuo couldn’t help the thought that this noisy, always getting to him person was too attractive with his eyes staring up at him with the softest expression. Those three fingers pulled out then, and he added more lube to his hands to touch himself and cover up with the liquid. He held himself at his entrance before plunging into him, not slow because it was better that way for him to be completely seated inside of him and wait for him to adjust than to go in inch by inch.

Tears barely escaped Izaya’s eyes they were shut so tight. Shizuo brought a hand to his wincing face, cupping his cheek and pressing his lips against the other’s. A moan passed from Izaya’s mouth to his, consuming it and him in the kiss. After several moments there, where Shizuo’s lips tasted the saline tears that dripped onto paler cheeks, the smaller pressed Shizuo further into him. Shizuo gasped at the feeling of that heat gripping him.

“Hey, don’t clench up,” he murmured into those black tresses, mussed already from their activities. The response he got was a pitiful attempt at speech. Teeth latched onto the shell of Izaya’s ear, and a hand moved over the small arse, pressing himself just a little further inside of him before withdrawing almost completely out of him. He canted his hips, pressing into him at a different angle this time, and he heard Izaya cry out, fingers seeking out places on Shizuo’s body for purchase. His teeth bit a little harder, but released the cartilage of his ear, licking it apologetically as those thin fingers took hold of his hair.

His name was panted as he began a smooth, rhythmic pace between them, their hips moving in tandem as he guided Izaya’s motions to mirror his. It was steady, though the tightness around him made him want nothing more than to take what it was Izaya seemed to goad from him, but he held back—he could crush him if he was too rough. Eventually though, Izaya seemed to be okay with the steady movements, pressing into him as he shifted inside of him.

The hands that had been tugging at his hair drifted down to his hips, pulling at him before a better idea seemed to strike him. Those fingers drug their nails up his back as legs wrapped around his waist, and Shizuo had to admit even if it was Izaya, this wasn’t horrible—it was actually good. He grinned, his lips converging on ones that were thinner and more abused.

The soft cries from the dark haired man were swallowed, but barely contained at the sensitive nerves inside the smaller were brushed, and he felt the warm wetness clinging to his clothes he had forgotten about until then. He pressed into him, thrusting to find his release and prolonging the other’s orgasm. Izaya broke from the kiss, looking up at him almost too innocently, a barely gasped whisper of, “Shizu,” escaped his lips, undoing him as he pressed into that willing body.

It took longer than expected to withdraw from the heat Izaya was providing him, but he did, and he stripped off his shirt—probably ruined—and mopped up whatever the shirt hadn’t soaked up from Izaya’s stomach. He fell back onto the bed, spent and tired, but now his mind was reeling and he had questions for the louse.

“When you say you never was it because—”

“Was it because of Shizu-chan?” He finished the question promptly for him, and he looked at the man, still naked and still right next to him. Those dark eyes shut with an amused expression on his face. “What things you’d have me say! No, I meant it when I said that I wasn’t interested.”

“But you were tonight,” he pressed.

“You gave a very convincing argument.” Red eyes met his for the statement before he sat up, looking as if he was going to leave. His arms encircled his waist.

“You’re not going anywhere tonight, Izaya,” he whispered huskily in his ear, pulling him back down onto the bed.

“But I’m all…gross…” he protested.

“Later—besides, you’re not going to _want_ to move,” he said, and proved his point when he adjusted them to be lying properly on the bed so their legs weren’t dangling off of the side. Izaya clung to him, wincing.

“Okay, later,” he yawned, curling up against him and resting his head on his chest, asleep almost instantly from being exhausted.

Exactly what have I gotten myself into? He wondered vaguely feeling that sense of tiredness, too. He looked down at Izaya, black strands of hair mussed around his face, making him look innocent and unable to hurt a fly. He internally shrugged. He’d find out later, he supposed, right now he just felt too good to care, and the moment felt too nice to interrupt with worrying. He allowed his arm to cover the smaller body protectively, and he drifted off to sleep.


End file.
